“Susan?”
“Why couldn’t you just come to church with him today? What would it have cost you, really? A couple hours? Maybe part of a day? He was trying to do what was right. If you’d just allowed Porter to show you around earlier in the week. If you had just cooperated a little bit in Kentucky none of this would have happened. You could have gone back to Chicago, and nothing here would have changed.”
We stood there in the road looking at each other. “I won’t lie, Susan. I won’t let him believe I think the way he does, or that I’ll marry Porter. If I let him think there is even a little chance I’m coming back, it’s a lie. I’m not coming back.”
“Porter is a good man. You’ve hurt him too. He was just trying to do what was right. He would have been good to you.”
“If you like Porter, you marry him,” I snapped.
She jumped as if I’d slapped her. “I would. But he hasn’t asked. Your father has asked.”
“Wait, my father asked you to marry him?”
“Yes. After what happened this morning Porter has threatened to leave and take most of the people he brought along to the congregation. It would ruin everything. Your father says that if Porter and his people go, God has told him we should marry. He needs a son to carry on the ministry. He had hoped that Porter would be the one to continue the work after your father is taken home.”
“I thought Jesus was coming back any day now.”
“He is. This is just in case. The word must be spread.”
I looked at her lovely pale face in the dying light, and my heart broke. “Don’t do it Susan. Run. Come to Chicago. Go to college. Leave. Go. He’s not a kind man. He won’t be good to you. He’s not like your father was.”
“My life is here. My mother is here.”
Her mother. For a moment I wondered what Jody had said to her daughter. For so long everyone had thought my father and Jody would marry by and by. Now this. Had Jody gotten her hopes up? Had my father hurt her too in his quest for a successor? “What does your mother say about this?”
“She thinks like you do. That I should leave and find work. The Elder says that she is just jealous of the exalted work God has for me. Jealous that she was never given such a calling.”
I slowly rolled up the sleeve of my baggy t-shirt. The bruise he left that morning was dark and deep. It had taken hours to come to the surface. “Do you see this? This is what he did to me this morning. Think of it, Susan. This is the sort of thing he’s been doing all my life. Even if he never lays a hand on you, will you be able to watch your children treated this way?”
“My children wouldn’t be disobedient.”
“Every child is disobedient, sometimes.”
“You’re just trying to tempt me away from the true path,” she said without much conviction.
“No I’m not. I’m trying to keep you from making a mistake. Stay here. Stay Unbridled Holiness. Just don’t marry Walton Taylor.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said.
I knew she was right. My father would find a way to excommunicate her, or have her shunned, or whatever form of exclusion he was using at the moment. It wouldn’t be for the sin of not marrying him. It would be for something else. He wouldn’t even have to trump it up. We all have flaws and faults enough. She would feel his full displeasure if she stayed until she gave in and married him, or broke with the Unbridled Holiness and left. “Isn’t that fact in and of itself enough to make you listen to your mother?”
“I have to go. Goodbye, Keziah. You don’t know the harm you’ve caused.” She turned away from me, back down the road. Back to Hiram’s Hill.
“Come to Chicago. You can stay with me. My door is always open. You have choices!” I yelled after her. She didn’t look back.
Sadly, I flipped open my phone as I stared back toward the trees.
“So tell me, how did you handle it when my father decided to break up your service?” I asked when my Uncle picked up.
He laughed. “You’ll think it’s cowardly of me, but I ordered the congregation to leave and headed for the back of the church. I wasn’t going to fight him. But I wasn’t going to leave him an audience either. A couple of the ushers decided to try and toss him out. That’s when things started getting thrown.”
“Actually, I think that’s a good response. Quick thinking.”
“Not really. I’d worked it out years ago, when he started to threaten me.”
*
That night I couldn’t sleep, so I slipped out of the house again to wander under the wide and starry sky. The moon was high. The roads were quiet. I had no trouble finding my way to stand on the road in front of Hiram’s Hill. I hesitated for a few minutes there on the road. All was quiet. The faint glow of St. Louis could be seen in the sky to the west, reminiscent of a fading sunset. But it was not the sun I knew, for it was nearly two in the morning.
Careful of the rocks and holes, I made my way up the path worn into the hill to stand in front of my father’s church. They had finished the framing, and had started to close in the walls. They would be done with it soon. Surely by the end of the summer.
As I walked around the structure I started to pray. I don’t know exactly what I prayed for anymore. I had already prayed for Susan several times that night. Prayed that she would see her way clear to leave, or to stay, but to turn down my father’s proposal. I have no doubt that I prayed for her again, some more. I also prayed for my father. Prayed that if he did marry he would be kind to his wife. Prayed that if they did have children he would be a good father. Prayed that his wounds would be healed, and his burdens eased. Prayed, once again, that somehow things would become right between us.
I must have paced those grounds for hours, around the church, then over to look down upon the tiny homes of their community, then back toward the church. Finally, I stopped in front of the church again. A feeling came over me that I could not name. Not peace. Maybe acceptance. Call it the knowledge that I had done all I could do. The sun was not yet rising as I walked the pitted path back down the hill. I smelled burning wood as I started down the road toward the Brandt’s, and looked back over my shoulder at the church on Hiram’s Hill.
In that second, in the fading moonlight, the half-finished walls looked like they had survived a fire. My breath caught, even as the illusion faded. Probably some teenagers on a nearby farm closing down a party, and a bonfire. The smell lingered in my nostrils most of the way back to my bed.
Fourteen
The next day I didn’t make it downstairs until lunch. The Brandts teased me lightly about my laziness. All of them, except Linus, who watched me with sad and worried eyes. I assumed he was concerned about my night wanderings.
After lunch, Ivy and I took her car into town for a stop at the local bookstore, and then to the café for coffee, and huge chocolate sundaes made with handmade ice cream.
“So, I’ve been thinking about your problem,” said Ivy, as she took the cherry from the top of her sundae and popped it in her mouth.
“Oh, really,” I said thinking she was speaking of my father and his congregation.
“Sure. I’ve got all kinds of idea. You could be an on line tutor. Or maybe even teach on line classes somewhere.”
“Possible,” I said, realizing she was talking about the job I was beginning to dread.
“Or you love books. You could look into becoming a librarian.”
“Maybe.”
“I can see you aren’t sold, but how about this? I think you should get a second job,” she said mischievously.
“Ivy, I hardly have time for my first job.”
“This one would be great. You’d see new places, meet interesting people. You’d have a great time.”
“Alright, hit me.”
“You should be an ESL teacher. You’re totally qualified. You’d have students who really wanted to be there instead of wanting to burn you in effigy every time you gave a pop quiz. It would get you out of that little apartment a couple times a week.
And you’d be the best at it, because you know every book ever written, and you could assign them things to read that would be interesting to them, not just things to read so they prove they can. I bet that’s the worst thing about having to learn a new language. Reading boring books.”
“I’d actually thought about that a little. I don’t know.”
“You would be great at it. You could use it so you could travel. Maybe take a year or two, and go to some exotic location and teach. I bet you’d meet some dark, tall, handsome man with a delicious accent and fall in love. He would sweep you off your feet and you’d never look back.”
I had to laugh then. “My life — romance novel, or green card marriage? Tragic.”
She laughed too. “You have always had all the luck.”
“Still, it’s a good thought. I’ll have to look into it more when I get back home. It would need to be the right sort of program. Not too many hours, not too many extra obligations.”
“You do think about it right?”
“Think about what?”
“About getting married,” she said.
“Not really.”
“Falling in love?”
“Nope.”
“But don’t you want...”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to, I don’t know, live happily ever after?”
“Nothing says I can’t do that alone,” I said.
“I know, but...”
“Think about it. What man in his right mind puts up with a father-in-law who shows up randomly, screaming about what a hell-bound whore his daughter is?”
“You could find someone who would. It’s not impossible. Lots of men are very understanding,” said Ivy.
“What marry a man who wouldn’t defend me and kick my father out of our lives? I would never. What kind of weenie are you trying to hook me up with?”
“Okay, so then find someone who would kick your father out of your lives.”
“What, marry a man who would isolate me from my family, and turn me against them? What kind of bully are you trying to hook me up with?”
She looked at me like I was half crazy. “But you just said... Oh, I see. You haven’t made the choice yet.”
“No, I haven’t. And until I do, what good am I in a relationship? None.”
“You could at least date, you know.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. I’d just be wasting my time and his.”
Ivy turned deeply and quickly angry with me. Her sense of right and wrong had been offended. “How can you not have made a choice, anyway? That’s ridiculous! He curses you, and calls you names. He takes money from you without so much as a thank you. As if you owe it to him. As if it’s his right. He hits you. He humiliates you, and you just keep taking it.”
“That’s not true. I don’t just keep taking it. I left, remember. And in a way, from the right perspective, I did owe him the money. It was his.”
“How? No. Don’t defend him to me.”
“When someone asks for your tunic, you give them your cloak too,” I said.
“There is so much wrong with that,” she sputtered.
“I know,” I said.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Ivy, as she stood up leaving behind most of her sundae as a testament to her upset.
“Okay.”
*
On the drive back to the Brandt’s Ivy was silent. Luckily it wasn’t a long drive. Once we arrived she deserted me without a word on the front lawn. I wasn’t surprised. Ivy and I had canvassed the topic many times. My continued love for my father was incomprehensible to her. I could hardly blame her. It was pretty incomprehensible most of the time to me, too.
Instead of following her inside, I walked around the house to the backyard and stood, thinking, for a moment. It was hot. Too hot to walk far, but the shade of the oaks and maples in the back yard was nice. I could happen out toward the barn, but I was dressed too nicely to help with any work going on out there. I could leave altogether, and take my own car back into town. Once Ivy calmed down — say in an hour or two — she would be apologetic. She always apologized, while still firmly holding her viewpoint. I would forgive her outburst, and we would go on. Her? Standards, expectations, and a code of honor. Me? Realities, practicalities, and facts.
Just as I was thinking I should find a lawn chair and a view to enjoy, John came thundering out of the house, the backdoor slamming behind him. He stomped across the back deck before spotting me. When he saw me he took a deep breath, and the flush started to leave his face.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“I’ve upset Ivy, and I’m staying scarce while she cools down. You?”
“I’ve upset my parents. Can I keep you company?”
“Sure.”
He came down off the deck and took my hand. “Let’s walk it off. Shall we?”
“As long as we stay off the road. Too much sun.”
“Perfect,” he said.
We walked out toward the meadow, and the trees and stream beyond. He seemed extremely tense, and kept grabbing my hand and squeezing it every few steps, all without looking at me. He just stared into the distance at some fixed point, like a man walking to his doom.
When we reached the trees around the drainage ditch he found us a rock and motioned for me to sit. I did sit, but he did not join me although there was room. Instead he started to pace a bit along the edge of the stream.
“I have to talk to you about something, Kay.”
“You know you can always talk to me, John.”
“I’ve been offered that job in Chicago. I want to take it. Mom and Dad are furious. They think I’m making a huge mistake. They think I should stay in the area and get established. They think I should live here, and work in St. Louis. The cost of living is better, even if I get an apartment in the city. I’d be closer to home. I can’t believe they won’t support me in this.”
As I watched him pace and rave, it was like watching a stranger. Even when he fought with Ivy, John was always calm, always logical. Mostly he was easy going, and almost peaceful in his outlook. I couldn’t think of another time I’d seen him pace, let alone give way to ranting in frustration.
“Okay, but why? They must have given you a reason why they think it is a mistake.”
He stopped and looked down at me searchingly. “They think I’m making the choice for the wrong reasons.”
“They may have a point. There are a lot of logical reasons to stay in the area. Especially if you have another job offer. Chicago is expensive.”
“I do have another job offer. And Chicago is expensive. But I was thinking I’d have a roommate,” he said seating himself next to me.
“Well, that would be a start. Still, have you done the math? Is the job in Chicago better for some reason? More opportunity to move up? Or maybe more pay?”
“You’re making it just fine on a teaching salary. You’re even saving.”
“True, but I’m unusually low maintenance. Most people want things like a newer car every few years, and a cell phone contract, and meals out, or nights on the town. I don’t go see first-run movies. I don’t even go to the coffee shop more than once a week. All those things add up faster than you think.”
“Yes, but if you’re doing it on one salary think of how much easier it would be to do it on two,” he said.
I felt like I’d skipped part of the conversation. “Wait, you were planning to move in with me?”
John slipped his arm around my shoulders. “No, Kay, of course not. I was... I was planning to marry you.”
His statement jolted me in to stupidity. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he was saying. I just sat there looking at him, my mouth working like that of a goldfish. All that would come out was glup, glup, glup.
“I know you’re surprised. But not that surprised, right? I’ve loved you for so long, Kay. I just couldn’t do anything about it until now. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask you to wait here for me. Or to come back
here and live. But here we are. I could come to you. We could make a home. We could even buy that house sooner. Twice as much work, twice as much savings. Maybe coffee out twice a week. We’d be happy, Kay. I know we would. And you wouldn’t ever have to see your father again. You’d be safe with me. I’d take very very good care of you.”
For a second it felt like all the pieces falling into place. Of course he’d be good to me, and things would work out. For an instant, just a sliver of a moment, I almost said yes. Then the truth hit me, simple and clear. I didn’t love him. I never had. Not that way.
“John, I can’t. We can’t. I’d never in a million years be a good wife to you.”
His arm fell from around my shoulders, and he pulled back from me.
“I mean, it’s very sweet of you to want to marry me, and I’m flattered that you’d think of it. I don’t love you like that. And you don’t really love me like that. You’re trying to save me — and you can’t. I don’t need a white knight. I need my friend. And you don’t need a damsel in distress. You need a partner.”
“You think that, but it’s just that we’ve never dated. So just give it a chance. Kiss me. Or let me kiss you. Let’s have dinner together — tonight. Maybe see a movie. We’ll give things a little space to evolve,” he said.
I stood up and so did he. “No. It’s not going to happen, John. I am truly sorry.”
“That’s it, then?”
“You’ll look back one day and know I was right.”
“I’m going for a walk,” he said before moving around me to head out of the glen, then across the meadow toward the road.
I turned, and watched him go, hating that I’d hurt him. Just before he stepped into the meadow, he looked back at me.
“The day will come when you’ll regret this,” he said, and then was gone out into the sunlight.
“I already do,” I said to the trees.
Just like that, my vacation was over.
*
Back at the house Ivy was in her room, and all apologies when I burst through the door.
She straightened up from slipping on her shoes, “I was just about to come find you. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, Kay.”
The Color of Ordinary Time Page 11